Oh No

My all-time favorite recording trope (excepting the ole' hidden trackeroo) has to be the album-opening staged rehearsal routine. The drummer practices some rolls, a buzzing input jack is plugged in, a firecracker goes off, and then somebody shouts "1, 2, 3, 4!", miraculously transmuting this rambunctious rehearsal into a clean-cut, impeccably sequenced full-length. Nearly every rock band's done it, and for the listener who really wants to connect, it's great playacting. Thus, in four seconds of fuzz and feedback, power-pop hucksters OK Go kick off their second LP with said theatrical flair and continue the charade for 13 rigid, self-conscious tracks.

Mimicry is one thing, but at least choose wisely. You see, OK Go decide to impersonate post-Pinkerton, post-catchy, fun-by-numbers Weezer, resulting in an Ivy Leaguer Sugar Ray sound. Worse yet, they keep one thumb in whatever pie MTV currently deems popular. Their summery self-titled debut cashed in on the short-lived Phantom Planet/Rooney craze, and Oh No egregiously hangs on the new wave bandwagon like a barnacle. If that chunky, clumsy riff on single "Do What You Want" sounds familiar, it should. Producer Tore Johansson tries to inject dance-rock into Oh No, apparently using leftover scraps from his Franz Ferdinand sessions. Unfortunately, the infusion sticks out like a rejected kidney, and Johansson often concedes to OK Go's smarmy schlock rock.

Frontman Damian Kulash calls most of the shots here, and not surprisingly, his frat boy spin on Elvis Costello shows marginal progress since "You're So Damn Hot". When he's not screaming "come on!" or "hey!", Kulash's razor wit tackles an array of subjects ranging from women to girls to chicks. His poetics may not run deep, but they certainly go on forever. Opener "Invincible", this album's "Get Over It", is meat-and-potatoes arena rock documenting Kulash's bizarre metaphor about a superhero girl who saves the world from aliens: "When they finally come to destroy the earthÉthey won't know about the thousand Fahrenheit hot metal lights behind your eyes." Damian Kulash majored in semiotics at Brown University, just throwing that out there.

So okay I get it, these guys are a "fun" band, and that's great, I love fun. Why, though, does their music play by such strict rules? Their only curveballs thrown here are Beach Boys harmonies and the same augmented chord progression, and even these twists are rationed. While their debut at least sported some guilty pleasure material, Oh No is too self-conscious for serious hooks to flourish. For what it's worth, Kulash still shows a nose for catchiness on humbler, mid-tempo songs, and without it, I wouldn't be touching this album with a 39-and-a-half-foot pole. From the impeccable touchstones to the knack for melody, everything's in place for these guys. However, as Oh No's first four seconds of guitar noodling forecast, these guys simply try too hard.